Cold And Silence. Nothing Quieter Than Snow.

Emma Is A Mattress Who Got Thrown Off The Truck When Her Parents Split Up. It's Not Like You Can Blame A Mattress When People Don't Tie It Down Tight Enough.

I Shake My Head. I Pick Up The Rake And Start Making The Dead-leaf Pile Neater. A Blister Pops And Stains The Rake Handle Like A Tear. Dad Nods And Walks To The Jeep, Keys Jangling In His Fingers. A Mockingbird Lands On A Low Oak Branch And Scolds Me. I Rake The Leaves Out Of My Throat. Me: "can You Buy Some Seeds? Flower Seeds?

Dead Girl Walking” The Boys Say In The Halls. “tell Us Your Secrets” The Girls Whisper, One Toilet To Another. "i Am That Girl. I Am The Spaces Between My Thighs, Daylight Shinning Through. I Am The Bones They Want, Wired On A Porcelain Frame.

I Am A Gluttonous, Gorging Failure. A Waste. My Body Isn’t Used To High-sugar Carbs Laced With Witchcraft. It Can Barely Cope With Soup And Crackers.

Some Adults Would Rather Pretend That Bad Things Dont Exist Than To Talk About Them.